Ness and His Sweater
by Doused
Summary: On a cold winter day, Ness is forced to wear a most terrible thing.


**Ness and his sweater**

It's icky. Scratchy. Ugly. It's balled up in the deep recesses of his closet far beyond his small arms. He thought. He thought he burnt the thing to bits last time he tried, but to his despair there it was. Inching out of his closet coming back to haunt him once again. As if the once last December wasn't bad enough.

He looked toward his mother again, mouth shifting in a downward frown.

"Where's your sweater?" she asked, her arms neatly folded at her sides.

He cringed slightly averting his gaze to the floor. The fifty cents in his pocket felt like lead blocks, he thought for sure his pants would fall to the floor. He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly, tucking in his thumbs into his pants.

"What are you hiding?" The boy stepped backward, the two quarters bouncing around in his pocket. Oh how he wouldn't mind Pokey stealing his lunch money today.

He shook his head rapidly.

"Nothing...nothing Mom. I...forgot my sweater at school. I can go put it on there." He stumbled with the words. He motioned a wavering finger in the direction of the school.

His face flushed beet red. He was a terrible terrible liar. His mother was no fool.

"I know you have it Ness. Where is it?" She crossed the battle line into his room, a slight swagger as she neared the center. It was early, the day had just begun, but already she had her grip on him.

He searched for his answers on the floor again. Ness was losing his battle. He began kicking the dust up with his worn sneakers. His stomach churned and growled, unpleased suddenly with the filth of the week old donuts he had to munch on today.

The shadow from his closet nearly tripled in size, dominating his foot, as if to say, "Look over here!" and he did look. The small crack opened up for him, its hinges laughing in the highest tone. There it was. He stuck out his tongue. He swore he saw that awful thing spring to life and crawl toward him.

He couldn't, wouldn't, wear it outside. But what to do? His mother marched around, searching diligently inside his drawers. It would only be a matter of time until the sweater would jump out at her, its horrible dirt brown frazzled threads alike.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. An idea so brilliant, that surely he would have to boast about it at school with his freezing arms and hands flailing about.

"Of course!" He mouthed. It was all so easy. He would burn it. Into ash. Here and now. He couldn't wear it if it didn't exist. He would have to be careful though. He glanced over to his mother, who was busy searching under his bed. The perfect opportunity. He shut his eyes, his arm slightly raised toward his closet door. His fingers flickered in a whitish glow. First, the door. He slowly moved his index finger to the left. The door groaned audibly. He cringed, letting go for a second. He looked back. His mother was still searching.

He sighed deeply, and then shut his eyes again. Now the tricky part. He would have to attempt what he failed before. Fire. He held his fist in his hand. His room was long gone now. Replaced with grassy greens and four familiar bases. The crowds in his imaginary stadium roared.

He took another deep breath. He waited for his moment.

"Bottom of the ninth. Two outs... Ness for the pitch. This could win it all." he commentated. This was always his favorite part. The windup. The soles of his feet gripped the wooden floorboards tightly. The crowd rose to their feet. All screaming the same name. He swung his leg forward. The pitch. Did he win it?

He opened his eyes, expecting to see the crackle of flames, but to his disappointment. His team lost. The sweater lay there defiantly. Ness let the glow recede from his fingers. Fire was still far beyond his reach.

"What were you doing Ness?" His mother was hovering over him like the boogeyman. He turned inward, fiddling with his thumbs, a cold sweat running down his cheek.

"N-nothing." he quickly responded, jumping to the front of his closet door. He would have to find some other way to dispose of it.

"Nothing, huh? I hope you're telling the truth, Ness." She stepped forward. She never seemed so tall to him. He cowered in her stature and shuffled into the doorway of the closet door. Scratchy wool crawled up his leg. He stood terrified now. If he moved, his secret would be out.

"You know what happens to liars, Ness. And it's such a shame; I was going to make steak today." Her lips parted and a wry smile appeared upon her face. His mouth hung open in shock, but nothing came out. His favorite food was in harm's way now.

"Let's see what's behind the door." His mother grasped the wooden door and swung it open. There behind Ness, was the wretched thing. She let it crawl up into her arms.

"Does..." Small tears collected on the bottom of his eye. "..this mean I get no steak?"

She crouched down to his level, the sweater neatly tucked in her arms.

"Lying is a very bad thing," She explained to him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders, "Don't do it again." He nodded in agreement.

With that, she thrust the beast onto his head. The fabric nipped at him, mocking him.

He grumbled at the sight of the overstretched monstrosity that seemingly swallowed his entire upper body in dirty, swampy, brown.

"See, now, it doesn't look bad at all. Remember to thank Grandma next time she comes over." She tucked in his oversized sleeves before giving him two minutes to make his way downstairs and then she left.

All the while, hysteric laughter could be heard coming in from the house next door. Through the glass, he could clearly see his overweight neighbor slapping the windowsill in laughter. Ness heaved a heavy sigh before scratching beneath his grandmother's sweater, something he would surely do all day, and made the valiant effort of leaving his room.


End file.
